


paraselene

by freidynne



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fatherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21629953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freidynne/pseuds/freidynne
Summary: Dimitri holds his newborn son for the first time.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 224





	paraselene

“Do you want to hold him?” Byleth asks, voice still feeble from her long and exhaustive labor, but face alight with the most radiant smile.

Her question is simple and expected, yet he still feels his heart hammer in response.

He is afraid, Dimitri realizes. Afraid and confused and incredulous and excited and overwhelmed. For nine long moons, he has looked forward to nothing but this very moment and now that he — _their son!_ — is here, Dimitri has no idea what to do.

Can his brutish bloodstained hands handle something so precious and innocent? Can his clumsy calloused fingers hold someone so small and vulnerable? What if he drops him? What if he hurts him? 

_You’re not worthy of this,_ a cruel voice sneers in his head, and despite his conscious battle against the ghosts from his past, Dimitri cannot help but agree. Yes, he does not deserve this. Yes, he does not deserve him.

But oh, does Dimitri want to hold him, to feel his warmth against his embrace, to tell him that he is loved and cherished, to let him know that he would do anything for him. Dimitri could kill for him and die for him. Dimitri would live for him.

So Dimitri extends his shaky hands towards the bundle in Byleth’s arms, wrapped in the traditional royal blue linens of the Blaiddyd family, and tries his best to remember Mercedes’s words: Right hand under the head. Left arm under the bottom. Cradle him close to your chest. Support his neck. Breathe.

Dimitri forgets how to breathe.

And as soon as he has his son in his arms _(His son! He is a father!),_ he forgets about everything else. Because what else in the world matters, really, when all that he has loved, all that he has hoped for and all that he has fought for is now in the crook of his arms, eyes fluttering in a dreamless peaceful sleep? 

_You don’t deserve him, filthy beast,_ repeat the angry voices in his head, and Dimitri realizes that even their scorn does not matter.

His past may be stained and bloodied by regrets and mistakes and he cannot do anything to erase them, but he is here now, alive and capable and beside the woman he loves most, cradling the one tiny life birthed by their love.

So Dimitri forgets about his ghosts. He forgets about his crest. He forgets about his insecurities and shortcomings as a ruler of a still-struggling kingdom. He ignores the voices in his head. He grounds himself to the present: to the here and now. To the warmth of the baby in his arms. To the gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest. To the tiny fingers that curl around his thumb.

And suddenly Dimitri knows: it’s not about him and what he thinks he should or should not deserve. It’s not about justice or vengeance or pride. It’s not about lineage or honor.

Life is about the here and the now. It’s about waking up to the feeling of his beloved’s fingers softly combing through his hair. It’s about enjoying the silky texture of age-old wine shared with friends. It’s about doing his best to ensure that the people of Fódlan live with food on their tables and peace in their hearts. It’s about appreciating the boisterous laughter of children in the marketplace and about relishing the quiet cold of Fhirdiad nights. It is about protecting both the monumental and the mundane, both the future and the now. It is about his son.

Dimitri has often wondered why he survived the tragedy of Duscur, why he lived when everyone he has ever loved had passed on. Back then, he thought it was because he needed to fulfill his duty to the dead. But now, at this very moment he understands.

Right hand under the head. Left arm under the bottom. Breathe.

Dimitri cradles his son close to his chest, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

He is here to love and be loved.


End file.
